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Sunday 20th November

Wrapped up in obscenities, illuminated pictures for the memories.
Remember me this way, up, portal to a doll’s house virtue. Toys
promenade a precious mouth, a foghorn. Language, a fistful of spoons,
heads bowed in contemplation. A quiet place transformed into a cafe.
Loose change, cold hand in the morning, search the dark with a candle,
laces undone in shoes.